Tell Me Why
by Solitia
Summary: A fic written from Blink 182's Tell Me Why featuring Reno and Rude


Reno woke groggily as the smoke alarm sounded his wake up call and ran a hand over his face, staring around him at the carnage of the bedroom. Clothes were pitched everywhere, there was a chair tipped over and leaning haphazardly against the wall and there were several empty bottles of booze lying around on the floor, some of them broken.

He rolled over onto his stomach and looked down at the cigarette still burning in the ash tray on the floor. Picking it up, he took a long hit off of the half stick still left and rolled back onto his back in a long stretch, looking around for Rude. The long strands of his ponytail rolled down his shoulder and off the side of the bed, the ends dangling into his ashtray that looked as though it had been dumped at one point.

It was too quiet. Rude was gone.

Reno sat up, rubbing his hand over his stomach. He was starving. Kitchen. Food. Call Rude. In that order. Wait. Piss first, then kitchen, food and call Rude. He stumbled into the bathroom to relieve himself, finding Rude's bath robe lying over the side of the tub, a large wet spot on the side and back. After he'd finished pissing, Reno picked it up and sniffed it, nose wrinkling. There was no way he could have pissed all over Rude's robe again. He'd said he wouldn't do that again.

Then again, he hadn't ever meant to do it on purpose the first time.

Not bothering to look at himself yet in the mirror, knowing he looked like hell and he shuffled to the kitchen through the living room. The front window was still hanging open and he had the strangest feeling of déjà vu. It was quickly replaced by memory. The doors had all been locked, he'd forgotten his keys somewhere and crawled in through the window he always left unlocked. It had been quite a task getting himself up over the ledge being as piss-faced drunk as he was, but he'd managed to fall, literally, into the living room and sprawl out across the floor. He made his way across the living room, narrowly missing the coffee table that had been a few inches out of place and kicked to the side, and shut the window. Now he knew how he'd gotten in through the window, finding his car parked on the front lawn very near the front of the house. His eyes widened in shock. How the hell fucked up had he been last night?

Leaving that situation to rest until he was more coherent, he got into the kitchen and put on the coffee. Then he made a couple of eggs and some toast. Food would help. Once his food had finished and he'd managed to butter his toast without making a complete mess of things, he sat at the small dining room table, only large enough for two people, and shoveled in his food. Three cups of coffee later, he actually felt alive enough to call Rude and find out what the hell had happened.

The redhead went back for the bathroom to get a change of clothes. Wearing the clothes he'd gone out in and slept in last night was not his idea of a good way to meet Rude should he want to talk. He ducked into the shower, washing quickly and marveling at the bruises, cuts and scrapes he'd somehow incurred. Once he'd stepped out of the shower and went for his toothbrush, he noted the black eye and the large scrape over his cheek.

He had to have been seriously fucked up last night. Harsh.

Once he was showered, shaved and patched, he began the search for his cell phone, finding it kicked under the sofa, and dialed Rude. He didn't pick up until it nearly went to voice mail.

"Hey. What th'fuck happened t'me last night?" He listened intently. "Nah. I didn't mean t'call y'that."

Rude rattled on at him, not necessarily angry, but very terse. "Do you remember anything we talked about last night or is this another case of where you said you weren't going to piss on my bath robe again and it was forgotten as soon as you were drunk?"

"I can't remember what was said. Don't 'member much'a nothin'."

"Then you don't remember the fight we had?"

"Or whatcha threw at me. Saw the aftermath, though." Rude went on rambling, but Reno interrupted, having wandered through the house as he was speaking. His eyes caught on his car again and he winced. "Hey, Rude… can y'tell me why m'car is on the front yard?"

"Because you thought it would be a great idea to get inside the house by standing on the hood of your car to get through the window because you couldn't find your keys. If you would have bothered to take them out of the ignition, you would have been able to get through the front door," Rude answered, getting angrier by the second.

"Yea, I know I came in through the window last night, but… I had to've been fuckin' drunk off m'ass."

"Yea. You were."

"An' you're gone."

"Did you expect me to stick around there while you were throwing shit and acting like a drunk fool? You're out of your mind."

Reno shook his head. He wasn't surprised at all, really, that things had happened the way it did. He had a habit of kicking the shit out of himself, especially when he felt guilty for something. He was his own worst enemy.

"I can't believe you fucking called me that, Reno. I can't believe you fucking said that to me. Man, we've been together for five years and you've never once said something like that to me."

"Rude… baby… can we forget about the things I said when I was drunk? I didn't mean to call you that." He was pushing Rude away again and he knew it. Shove away the only thing that meant anything to you and then you have nothing to make you feel guilty anymore. Well, except that you threw them away when you needed them the most.

"You left one hell of a mess in that house last night."

"Yea. I'll have it cleaned up by the time you get home." He closed his phone, putting it back into his pocket while he cleaned up the mess, starting in the kitchen. He really was his own worst enemy.


End file.
